


a heart's a heavy burden

by katsmovingcastle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Calcifer!Coran, Howl!Lance, Howl's Moving Castle AU, Lettie!Nyma, M/M, Markl!Pidge, Pineapple Head!Hunk, Sophie!Keith, Wicked Witch Of the Wastes!Allura
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 06:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11202198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsmovingcastle/pseuds/katsmovingcastle
Summary: Keith works and designs at the local knife shop, visits his foster sister Nyma nearby at the bakery, and watches as his brother, Shiro, helps more kids find their home there instead of at the orphanage. It doesn't stop Keith from wondering if there's more to life than what he's found, and it doesn't help that all anyone can talk about is the magnificent wizard Lance, whose castle looms in the distance among the Wastes if Keith looks hard enough. When he's paid a visit by a beautiful witch one night, he finds that the form he takes leads him on a journey that brings Lance into his life for good.





	a heart's a heavy burden

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! i've written this entire first part and it's all I currently have for this au, so I decided to post it. i've changed a few things about the story because I wanted to personalize it a little bit, so I hope you enjoy. You can always find me at my tumblr, peachykeiths, if you wanna talk about any of my fics or fandoms!! 
> 
> also, thanks to sawyer (lumberjackwiki) who listened to me yell about this and is always endlessly supportive of me and my writing, and who I specifically wrote this for since he gave me all of the inspiration I needed to write this first part. :-)

Keith looked outside the window of his little room, feeling the train rumble as it passed below him, shaking all of things and the small stool he was sat on. The sun streamed lazily through his windows, casting shadows along his work desk and glinting against the several different metals and tools that sat on the worn and darkened wood. He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back a little as he heard the front door open with a loud thud, and footsteps and chatter getting louder as some of the others came back from the markets. 

He heard a knock at his door, the subtle rapt of knuckles against it before it creaked open. Keith looked over to see Shiro peering around the crack that he had created, and he gives him a wave. 

“Hey Takashi,” he mumbles, and gets up to dust off his hands on his pants, reaching for his vest that’s hanging on the hook next to the door. Shiro raises an eyebrow and steps further into the doorway, watching as Keith shrugs on the garment, before reaching for a hat that resided next to it on another hook. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out with us later? You deserve to celebrate a little bit, this shop’s success owes a lot of it to you. Your knives are the ones that sell for the most gold, you know. People all over town always talk about your craftsmanship,” Shiro says, and Keith shakes his head, tucking his favorite knife into the side of his pants, hidden by the vest once he brings it over where the knife resides. He picks up a package wrapped in brown paper, and holds it by the strings that are keeping it tied together. 

“I’m going to go visit Nyma at the bakery and drop off an order on my way. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Be safe, have fun tonight, okay?” Keith says, resting his hand on Shiro’s shoulder for a moment. They meet eyes, and Shiro’s are sad but accepting. 

“Be careful out there. I’ve heard people talking about seeing Lance’s castle moving around near town. He could be around, looking for people’s hearts,” Shiro warns, and his eyes flash at the mention of Lance, the wizard that everyone speaks of every now and again. There’s a lot of stories about him leaving people in states of disarray, heartbroken and alone after interacting with him, but Keith didn’t feel threatened. He’d researched it enough to know that Lance only went after beautiful people, and Keith definitely did not fit under that label. Dirty, scrawny blacksmith knife maker, sure, but definitely not beautiful. 

“I’m sure Lance isn’t going to even look twice if he ever saw me, Shiro. Don’t worry,” Keith says, and pats his hand resting on his shoulder twice before going out of the door that was still slightly cracked open, giving the others all a half wave as they all laughed, joking with each other in a semicircle in the front of the store. 

As he walked towards the trolley, he had to shoulder through groups of people all gathered for the parade, trying to find spots to watch the airships pass over the town and the soldiers marching through the main square. He managed to grab onto the edge of the already packed trolley, the sun seeming to reach it’s highest point in the sky, causing all of the colors to brighten and become almost too much in the glare. Keith pulls his hat down further onto his face and sighs as the trolley begins its crawl into town, the buildings passing by in an increasing speed, a cool breeze brushing his cheeks. 

Some of his hair tries to tickle his nose and he keeps pushing them back with his wrist, too lazy to tuck it behind his ears. He figures he should probably get to cutting it at some point, but he just was too focused on work to care about his outward appearance. It hadn’t ever really been a focus of his in the first place, as he didn’t place any care into it at all. Even for other people, he found that their personality was much more influential than anything else. He could find someone aesthetically pleasing, but otherwise, if their personality was shitty, he didn’t want anything to do with them. As someone became more open and he become closer to them, he found them even more beautiful than when he first met them. 

He knew that his thinking was found weird by the other boys that stayed and worked in the shop, from one of the few times that he had attended their outings and shared how he felt after hearing about them rave about another gorgeous girl passing by. It was another reason that he felt more like an outlier among the rest of the boys, even though they were all similar in the fact that they were orphans. 

Shiro’s parents owned the shop primarily, but keep adopting the children who are in the orphanages for long periods of time, giving them places to live in their hotel that happens to be right next to the shop. They give them work wherever they fit so that they can get their feet on the ground, and provide them with a family environment that they can choose to stay or leave once they reach the right age. 

Keith loved Shiro’s parents in his own way, loved Shiro like a brother that he never knew he would have the opportunity to have, but he knew it just never felt right to him. There was always something missing, an ache in his heart that no matter how many knives he carved intricate patterns into the handle or spent hours working the metal into interesting shapes, it never felt full or right. 

Keith’s startled out of his thoughts when the trolley comes to a stop, jolting him slightly even though he’s holding onto one of the poles. A few horns sound, signaling the beginning of the parade, and the people shuffle as quickly as they can off of the trolley in order to get somewhere they can see. Keith steps off, turning and trying to find one of the openings of an alleyway to try and avoid all of the people. 

When he finds one, he breaths a sigh of relief, stepping down the stone steps and running his fingertips against the coolness of the walls, feeling the bumps and ridges along the rock and releasing some of the tension in his body. His breathing felt easier as he walked, the alleyways empty except for a few rats running along the edges and cats lounging on some of the closed window sills. 

He walks alone for a while, weaving his own way through all of the alleys, knowing the way to the bakery pretty well. The parade sounds muffled, the cheers and applause of the crowds feeling far away and removed from where he was. When he heard voices echoing somewhere nearby, he bit at his lower lip as he happened to jump at the first noise of them. When he reached the next alley and turned, he ran right into them, bumping directly into the chest of a person. 

He stumbled back, his cheeks reddening and staring at his feet before he realized that it’s rude to avert his gaze, and looking up to find that he had stumbled into the people that he’d been trying to avoid. The soldiers were looking at him incredulously, and the one that he had bumped into brought a hand up to their chin, staring at him like they were expecting something. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled, and turned his head back down to the ground, trying to step around the men and keep walking. He was stopped in his tracks, however, by a hand grabbing his wrist and yanking him back. 

“Excuse you, that’s all you say to us? Don’t you think we deserve a little more than that? You just walked into us like we were nothin’,” The one soldier says, and his buddy grins at that, reaching forward to grab Keith’s other wrist so that he had no way to twist out of his grip. 

“Your hair is so long, and your eyes, wow, they’re really cute, aren’t they? You’re really good looking for a low life working in this shitty town,” The other one comments, and Keith’s eyebrows knit together, the corner of his mouth coming up in an almost growl. 

“You know nothing about me, asshole, so let me go!” He gets out, his voice low as he jerks his wrists, trying to loosen their grips on him. They tighten instead, and Keith wishes he had a hand to get his knife out at this point. 

“The little raven’s feisty,” the soldier says with a dark chuckle, a nasty smirk curling the edges of his mouth, and Keith spits at him. 

“Get the fuck off of me,” Keith growls, and kicks his foot into the man’s shin, causing him to crouch down to clutch at his leg, letting go of his grip on Keith’s wrist. Keith tries to turn to loosen the other soldier, going to kick at him as well, before the soldier’s fist connects with the edge of Keith’s mouth. Keiths bends over at the waist, crying out in pain, and his hands fly up to clutch at his now bleeding lip. 

“Darling, there you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you- Oh now, that’s not the way to treat him, now is it? Who do you assholes think you are?” A voice calls out, low and smooth, something that sounds calming and that Keith would want to hear again and again. 

Since his eyes are shut, he doesn’t see what happens, but hears as both of the soldiers yell out at the same time, two distinct thuds echoing in the alley before Keith notices that they’ve gone silent. He opens his eyes, straightening up and finds himself looking into eyes a shade of blue that he swears he hasn’t ever experienced in his life, they’re so electric and alive. 

The man in front of him is dressed nicely, in form fitting black pants and nice black leather boots, a billowy white shirt that exposes the deep tan of his chest partially covered by a jacket that’s draped over his shoulders. The jacket is what catches Keith’s eyes next, the fabric made of expensive silk with imprinted patterns, glimmering jewel tones of deep pinks and blues and creams that has his eyes jumping over the fabric, entranced. He returns to the man’s face, all angles and sharp lines, accented by his jewelry, an emerald earring hanging from one and a necklace with a shining pendent glittering at his throat. 

Keith finds that he can’t find his voice, and he’s just standing there, his fingertips stained with his own blood, which is probably dripping down onto his chin and his shirt by now. 

The man smiles at him, his white teeth flashing, and Keith finds that he is probably the most attractive man that he’s ever seen. 

“Can’t have nasty men bothering such a pretty boy like you, can we? Now, we don’t have much time, but let me fix you up and get you on your way,” He says, and he offers his hands, palms up, towards him. Keith stares at them, at the men that lay crumpled in sleep on the ground, and back up to his eyes that look like the ocean that Keith has seen in pictures. 

“How can I trust you?” Keith asks, hands flicking down to the jewels decorating his fingers, back to his eyes, glittering in the sunlight. 

His eyebrow arches, and one of his hands go to settle at his hip, which is slightly moved out towards the side, his posture sliding into contrapposto. 

“Well, I did just help you with those jerks, even though I thought you were doing a lovely job on your own when I arrived. Good kick, by the way, I admire that in a guy. However, as much as I’d like to take the time to convince you, we do need to start moving. I’ve got some people on my tail, unfortunately,” He says, and offers his arm, crooked at his elbow. It’s a moment where Keith looks around, shrugs his shoulders, and then slides an arm into his. 

As soon as he touches him, he feels a spread of something electric spread through his entire arm, almost like fire, cool flames crawling up the exposed skin that isn’t covered by the fabric of his shirt. He gasps softly, and the man looks over to him with a small smile, one that’s knowing and warm, and reaches up to poke him on the nose. 

“All healed up, and your nose is lovely and not broken anymore,” he comments, and Keith finds a blush spreading across his cheeks. He notices that they’re rushing quite quickly through the passages, and he is broken out of staring into his eyes to find darkness rushing up at the edges, chasing behind them. 

“Um, you see that, right?” Keith asks, his tone a little high, and he tugs his hat down a little further as the man nods his head, humming. 

“I do indeed. Pesky little fuckers. Hold on tight!” He says, and it’s a moment before Keith’s feet aren’t even touching the ground anymore. The man had guided him to be more in front of him, moving so that his hands curled around his fingers, leading him. He finds that they’re floating up, away from the alleys and the dark figures that linger down there, watching with yellow eyes that only blink open now that they’re out of reach. Keith shudders a little at the sight, and stops looking at them to look at the growing distance below both of their feet, and the man that he’s being supported by, a warm presence just a few inches to the side of him. 

His hair is floating as if it has it’s own gravity, and his eyes are sparkling like gemstones as they shift over the parade that is going on below them. Keith has a very real moment where he realizes that he’s flying, and wonders how they’re even achieving what they’re currently doing. He’s heard of magic, heard of wizards and witches and how they were selfish and cruel, and never anticipated that he would one day get to witness it first hand. 

He looks over at the man and has the sudden realization that he’s heard of him, before. 

“Kick your feet like you’re on a bicycle, it’ll help a little,” He suggests, and looks over to find the person that he’d saved in the alley staring at him already. His violet eyes are wide, his hair in soft curls blowing against the pale skin of his neck. He blinks at how beautiful he is, had already noticed before even when his nose was broken and blood dripped down his chin and over his lips. In the sunlight, however, this man shone like no one he had ever seen before. He felt the energy that was contained inside of his chest, a cool purple flame just waiting to be released. His energy, glowing bright and directly through his eyes, was entirely promising, and he wanted to get to know it. 

“Now, where are we headed?” He asks, and Keith blinks at him a few times before turning his gaze to the buildings in front of them, taking a moment before pointing at a slightly taller one, covered in red bricks and yellow tapestry blowing in the wind. 

“The bakery,” He says, nodding his head towards it, and the man smiles and guides them there. It takes a few seconds before he is lowered down onto a balcony, the man standing on the railing as he guides Keith down with his hands. Before he lets go his hold on Keith’s hand, he leans down to press his lips to his fingertips. 

“It was lovely to meet you,” He murmurs, a smirk on his lips, and Keith becomes more red by the moment. 

“Thank you for saving me-” he pauses, wondering if his suspicious about who he is are true. 

The man is still smirking when he straightens, fixing his jacket on his shoulders. 

“Lance,” He provides, drawling the name out, and Keith feels a shudder run through him. He had been right after all. 

“M’Keith,” He mumbles, thinking better of it after it had left his mouth. Lance’s eyes are bright and happy and he settles his hands on his hips. 

“I hope you to meet you again, someday, Keith,” He says, and looks around, at the crowd down below him, before flicking to Keith, and then the door behind him. 

“You better get to your friend,” Lance prompts, and Keith nods, even though he’s slightly confused. 

“I never told you what I was doing,” He points out, and Lance manages to look sheepish, ruffling his fringe as he looks away from Keith. 

“Apologies. I actually knew the whole time, when I healed you I accidentally learned of your intentions in town,” Lance admits, and Keith hums, mulling over the information. 

“I hope you didn’t see anything weird in there,” Keith says, a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips, and Lance echoes him. 

“Don’t worry, I more than liked what I found,” He said, winking at him before stepping backwards, dropping off of the edge of the balcony. Keith rushes to it, hands gripping the railing and looking down only to find no trace of him anywhere. 

It was the weirdest day that Keith had had in awhile, but he found he couldn’t shake that shade of blue that was Lance’s eyes, trying to find the color in real things but ultimately finding no parallel. As he turned away from the balcony, he looks for an exit to get into the bakery, and his eyes shift to a door with a few boxes stacked in front of it. He pushes them to the side, kicking up some dust, which he coughs at. 

Keith managed to shoulder the door that led from the balcony to the bakery open, and was met with more stacks of boxes piled high, containing food and supplies. He picked a path through the looming towers, and found a set of stairs leading down to the main floor. He took them, looking down towards his shirt and finding it clear of any of the drops of blood that were there previously. He hums quietly to himself, and finds that the staircase had brought him to the corner of the bakery, among the rows of fresh baked bread. 

He makes his way to the front, which is filled with people and soldiers in uniform, all trying to grab the bakery goods as quickly as they’re being placed out in the displays. Keith’s eyes scan the workers and land on the head of someone blonde, and he continues to find his way towards them. He slides past people easily, focused on the person, and it isn’t long before he’s met with Nyma’s large, round brown eyes staring up into his. 

“Keith!” She exclaims, and some people look over at him as Nyma wipes her hands on the white frills of her apron and leaves her position in front of the display place, going around to the end of the counter. On her way there, she plucks up a brown bag and once she leaves the counter, takes Keith’s hand and leads him into the back, where they usually spend the time of her breaks. 

They both take seats in a supply room, a smaller version of what he had waded through upstairs, and Nyma opens the bag and hands him a croissant. He takes it gladly, sinking his teeth into the flaky, soft pastry and raises his eyebrows when he finds it’s been filled with raspberry jam. 

After he swallows, he gives Nyma a warm smile. 

“I like this one. I’m glad that they’re letting you experiment with the bakery items. They taste a lot better with your additions,” Keith says, and Nyma returns the smile. 

“You’re always praisin’ my pastries, Keith, I don’t deserve all of the flattery,” She says, and takes a bite out of a muffin. 

“I might just really like pastries,” He teases, and Nyma smacks him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Hush. Now do you happen to have my order?” She drawls, and Keith nods, handing her the brown package that he’d managed to keep track of even over his adventures flying over town. 

“I just finished it up this morning. I hope it’s what you wanted,” He says, as she eagerly takes the package and unwraps it to reveal a small knife, with emerald jewels placed in the handles, the metal shining gold and reflecting the light as she turns it. 

“Oh, Keith, I love it! It’s like you looked inside my head and saw what I wanted,” She says with a giggle, pulling up her skirts to slide the knife into a holster that attached to her tights. 

“I’m definitely going to need it with all of these nasty soldiers around,” She said, her voice becoming lower as she spoke about them, returning her skirts down to cover over her legs again. 

“So what took you so long to get over here? Does the parade have everyone and their brother hangin’ around? I’m surprised they’re all here in the bakery when the airships are supposed to be out,” She asks, tucking a stray blond ringlet curl behind her ear as she sets down the bottom of her muffin, having eaten the entire top of it. 

Keith takes it because he knows that she’s not going to eat it, peeling down the waxy wrapper and taking a bite. He swallows before speaking and answering her question. 

“I ran into Lance, the wizard? He saved me from some soldiers that wouldn’t leave me alone, and they we flew over the town to here? I know it sounds kinda wild, but I can’t even believed it happened either,” Keith says, his expression flat as Nyma stares at him with her brown eyes wide, her lips painted cherry red opening in an ‘o’ expression. 

“KEITH! You met Lance, and you’re just like, totally fine about it? Honey, did he take your heart? Are you okay? Is he as handsome as they all say he is, because I couldn’t really believe it when I heard-,” She rambles, and Keith reaches a hand out to stop her before she keeps going. 

“He didn’t take my heart, I’m way too ugly for that. I’m fine. He was nice to look at?” He answers all of her questions, and she waves her hand at him. 

“You sell yourself short, Keith. Even though I’m glad that you’re alright, and that he saved you. You have to be more careful though! Go straight back to the shop from here, alright? It’ll make me feel better knowing you’re going straight home,” Nyma says, as someone calls her name from the front of the bakery. She sighs, tucking some of the errant wrappers from their snack into the bag and standing, dusting crumbs off of her dress. 

“I gotta go back. It was nice to see you, Keith. You’ll have to come out with me and the others, another one of the kids got adopted and we’re celebrating! I’ll come by the shop tomorrow to give you the details,” She says, and offers Keith a half hug, which he returns loosely. 

“Alright, Nyma, have a good night,” He says, and tugs his hat down further as he leaves her and then exits the shop. 

As he walks back to the trolley, he thinks about when he first met Nyma at the orphanage. They had both been there for as long as he could remember, and their rooms were always right next to each other. There was a hole in the wall that they used to speak through at night, when they weren’t allowed to leave their rooms, and had to sit in the dark. They talked each other through nightmares and not feeling good enough, and Keith had watched as she had gotten adopted first. 

He continued to visit her through the years, the bakery being the one solid thing that didn’t change despite his jumping from household to household. No matter who decided to adopt him next, he always found a way to get to her, even if it was just for a few moments. Her friendship had kept him afloat through the hardest times, and her pastries had kept him from staying too terribly thin. 

He doesn’t know what he would’ve done without her, and knows that her presence is one of the few comforts he allows himself in his life. It’s the only thing that hadn’t ever really been taken away from him, and he intends to keep it that way. 

He watches the sunset as he grabs onto the edge of the trolley again, packed full of people who are going home after the parade. The cobblestone of the streets is littered with flyers and confetti, and some kids run around trying to gather it up, playing games to collect the most colors of each of the small pieces. 

Keith looks out to the horizon on the other side of the sun, where it’s dark and clouds are forming. It looks like it’s a thunderstorm, and it’s probably on it’s way to town. He peers curiously through the fog that covers the Wastes, wondering what he could see if he could get closer. As the trolley jerks forward to move, he’s startled, but doesn’t miss how he thinks he sees something large and looming peeking it’s way out of the top of the clouds. 

He wonders if it’s Lance’s castle. 

-

He makes it home to find the shop dark, with no one seemingly there. He unlocks the door with a key that it his own, making his way into the shop and lighting a candle on the front counter as he sets his hat down for a moment. He busies himself with small tasks, cleaning up the store from the day of having people come in and look at their inventory. 

Keith shines some of the knives with fingerprints and moves some back to their rightful places, humming softly to himself as he works. He’s planning out the rest of his night, assuming that he will go to bed after he finishes cleaning up the shop, and starts to think of the commissions that he has to work on tomorrow. 

He thinks of Shiro and the rest of the boys, and hopes that they’re having a good night, and thinks about Nyma closing up the bakery, and walking home with the rest of the girls that work there. He wishes that they’re all okay and that they’re safe. 

His back is turned to the door, placing a sword back in it’s holders on the wall when he hears the door ring as it is opened, the bell sounding and sending echoes of the shrill sound around the quiet of the shop. 

“Sorry, we’re closed. I swear I locked that door-,” He says, as he turns around to find a woman standing inside the doorway. She’s tall and flanked by shorter henchman, dressed in nice, midnight blue suits, their arms crossed and eyes focused elsewhere. The woman herself is slender and absolutely stunning, wearing a emerald green dress that sparkles in the light, hugging all of her curves. She’s holding a shawl over her shoulders made of the finest silk that Keith has ever seen, and the deep black of it contrasts the brightness of her pastel pink hair. It’s curled and long, hanging down near the edges of her hips, and holding back one side is a large peony flower, by her ear. Her eyes are done with makeup beautifully, dark and smoky and making the cobalt blue of them stand out, her cheeks dotted with silvery freckles. 

Keith’s breath is knocked completely out of him, as he stares at her. 

“It’s rude to stare,” She says, and her voice is smooth and soft, and Keith’s hands hang at his sides, feeling weak. 

“We’re closed Ma’am. We open early at seven tomorrow morning, and you can come back then and I can help you,” Keith says, the tone of his voice biting as it cuts through the air of the shop 

“I’m not here for your tacky knives, I’m powerful enough on my own. I’m here because I heard of your little run in with Lance earlier? Isn’t he just lovely, he’s got the prettiest heart I’ve ever seen,” She sighs, wistful as she walks over to a display, her heels clicking against the tile floors. 

“I’m going to need you to give him something next time he visits you, think of it as a little present,” The woman smiles, her lips curling sweetly as she steps closer to him and waves her hand, fingers twirling a small cloud of pink smoke that seemed to sparkle in front of his eyes. As he breathed in, surprised that she had closed the distance between them so quickly, he felt a wash of warmth lap over him like a wave from the ocean, and he seemed to drown in it, feeling his eyelashes flutter as his body, weak, dropped him to the ground. 

“I’m sure we’ll meet again soon,” She says, smiling down at him before turning on her heel, waving her hand for her henchman to follow her as she walks out of the door, slamming it closed behind her. 

-

Keith’s not sure how long he stays on the ground, his mind blurry and his world spinning. When he feels steady enough, he stands up, his hands reaching out for the counter in front of him. He lets out a few shaky breaths before bringing his head up to view himself in the mirror he knows that sits there, hung up on the wall. 

What he sees startles him, to the point he looks immediately back down and then up again, in disbelief. 

His ears have grown larger, arching up to a point at the end as they peek through his now longer tufts of hair. His eyes are now glowing a bright yellow that seems to shift in the light, and his skin is now discolored in patches of varying shades of purple. His features seem sharper and harsher, his cheekbones shallow and his bones jutting out among his body. His clothes hang looser on him now, and Keith finds himself breathing shallowly as he takes in all of these changes. 

He looks back up into the mirror and opens his mouth after feeling pain, finds that his teeth have sharpened, and seem to be poking at the edges of his lip. He places his hands on the table to find that his nails have sharpened to a point, his fingers long and bony, and he turns them over and over in disbelief. 

He looks like a monster. 

Keith turns sharply from the mirror then, making his way out of the shop and closing the door behind him, trying to make his way to his room without running into anyone. He seems to be in luck, because it seems like Shiro and the others are still out and everyone else is asleep. 

When he makes his way into his room, he locks the door behind himself and leans against it for a moment, trying to calm himself down. He figures that he finally shows what he truthfully is, on the inside, and being so ugly on the outside keeps him from fooling anyone that he’s anything but average. 

When he lays down on the bed, he finds sleep takes him over quickly, taking away any thoughts that he was having. 

-

Leaving wasn’t hard for Keith, it wasn’t like he kept many belongings or memories regardless. The amount of times that he had moved around and left behind people and houses is a feeling that he settles into effortlessly. He thinks for a moment that despite everything, he will miss Shiro. Shiro was the only person that he ever felt a connection with, felt like he could be himself without being judged, share his innermost thoughts without hesitation. He knows that he’s probably going to miss his influence in his life, but figures this too, must come to an end. 

He gathers some things to eat and throws them into a small rucksack, straps a knife to hide at his lower back and one on his thigh, and finds one of his hooded jackets so that he can pull it low over his face and ears for travel. He finds gloves to cover his hands and wears long pants, and in this disguise, he is invisible and nameless to anyone who would take a glance at him. 

Keith ducks out of the shop, staring back at the glistening knives with their intricate handles that he had spent hours handling and making beautiful. It was one of the only things that he felt purposeful doing, since he could create these pretty things that could protect others. He admired that in a knife, it’s duality and beauty. He takes one last look before closing and locking the door behind him before setting off to the Wastes. 

He had heard about them all of his life. He had been threatened to be thrown there, if he had never fit in with a family. Keith had always associated it with banishment and loneliness, as he had never heard of anyone ever coming back. As a child, he had heard others in the orphanage sing songs of the witches and wizards that wandered there, with mysterious powers and terrible curses. 

Since he was now privy to this curse from one of the most beautiful and deceiving witches he had ever met, or possibly, the first witch he had ever laid eyes on, the silly songs seemed necessary when he had never paid attention. At least he remembered where he could go, and the Wastes seemed like a good place to start. 

He had always been someone who was more happy alone, and he found himself enjoying the walk out of town, as the noise quieted down and he was left with nature, a warm wind blowing through the air as he came out over the ridge that began where the Wastes resided. Clouds seemed to cover the area, and for miles, a low fog concealed much of what could’ve been visible. 

As Keith walked, he only ever came across rocks and stones, an eerie quiet than was unsettling despite his footsteps. It wasn’t long before the clouds overhead began to make rain fall, and he pulled his hood down lower in a vague attempt at remaining dry. The rain soaked him, causing chill to run through to his very bones, it seemed, as he meandered through the wastes. He stopped for breaks and ate sparingly at what he had brought, his thoughts wandering for purpose. 

He walked until the sun began to set, splitting colors of warm orange and inky purple through the clouds of fog and rain. He found the change in pace welcoming, but also dreaded the night. He knew he needed somewhere to stay, but there didn’t seem to be anything for miles. 

As he was walking, lost in thought, his foot caught on something and caused him to stumble. His hands flew out in front of himself to catch his fall, and he grunted as he hit the ground hard. A curse left his lips as he looked around, wincing as he tried to get up using his hands and turning them towards himself after taking off his gloves to find them scratched and bleeding. When he looked back to where he had just stepped, there was a giant wooden pole sticking out from a bush that he had just passed. 

Once he was standing, he pondered the stick that he had just tripped over, and went over to it and tried to pull it from the bush. It took some struggling before he realised there was more to it than just a stick, and leaned it up to find that there was a scarecrow on the other end. There was a pineapple for a head, with a bright yellow coat and top hat adorning the stick, a yellow sunflower sticking out of the pocket. Once Keith had righted it mostly upwards, it seemed to jump out of his hands and take life on its own, finding it’s own balance and standing on its own. 

“Uh, hi?” Keith said out loud, wondering if this scarecrow could understand what he was saying. The scarecrow started jumping up and down after he spoke, and Keith smiled, amused. 

“I’m guessing you are like me, maybe? Well, we can stick together while we’re both looking for what we need, whatever it is,” He said, and the pole started jumping up and down again. 

“Can I call you Pineapple Head? Scarecrow seems kinda insensitive, since it’s just what you are, but maybe not what you want to be called?” Keith asked, and it was moment before Pineapple Head began to start jumping again, which he took as an affirmative. 

It was then that the rain decided to start pouring again, the sun having disappeared beyond the horizon and leaving them in slowly moving in darkness. Keith sighed heavily, but Pineapple head hopped over to try and shield him from the rain as much as they possibly could, and he thanked them as he began to trudge along. 

“We need to find somewhere to stay, Pineapple Head,” He murmured, thankful for a moment to have Pineapple Head’s thumping pole as a new sound along with his footsteps and the rain. He was shocked into a standstill when he heard the loud noises of metal and thumping, hard enough to shake the ground. 

He looked around to see nothing, but only continued to hear the noises get louder and louder as he stayed still. Pineapple Head stilled beside him, and Keith found himself leaning towards it to shield himself from the rain. As the ground shook, he looked around to see if there was anything to hide behind, and figured the attempt was unyielding of any results. 

It was then that a large moving piece of machinery, towering up into the clouds, made it’s presence known through the mist. The iron creaked and groaned as two large feet stomped and moved it, and all of the parts seemed precariously balanced, steam and smoke billowing out from different areas of the moving castle. 

“Hey look, maybe we can stay there? Do you think it’s Lance’s castle?” He called out to Pineapple Head, who seemed to like what he was saying, and continued after the castle, hopping after it. Keith quickly followed, breaking out into a run to catch up with the stride of it. He noticed that there was a small door with a lantern near the back, and he made his way towards it, making a leaping jump to make his way to the ledge, having the machinery made a move to catch the rest of him to make sure he didn’t fall. Pineapple Head happened to make it’s way onto the ledge, and Keith smiled at it, wondering if it was able to see. 

“I think you’re too tall to get into the doorway. I’m going to go inside and see what’s there, but I’ll see what I can do about you. At least you’re covered from the rain here,” Keith said, and he placed his hand on the bronze doorknob to find it open, and the door creaked as he opened it enough so he could peer inside. He could see a set of stairs leading up to a landing that he couldn’t see over, just darkness and an orange glow, the crackling of a fire. 

“Bye for now, Pineapple Head!” Keith said and nodded his head once to Pineapple Head’s quick hopping before entering the house and closing the door behind him. He made the way up the stairs to find it dry and warm inside, and once he reached the top, he found that there was a small fire burning in a large hearth, with junk and clutter filling up every other available space in the room. There were various objects and dirt scattered everywhere, and just looking at it made it seem like whoever lived here didn’t take the time to take care of any of their things. 

Keith shrugged off his jacket, soaked through with water, and laid it at the edge of the hearth as he found a chair and dragged it to sit in front of it, aiming to dry off. The house was quiet despite the creaking of it moving, and Keith wondered if anyone was home or just asleep. He wondered if this was Lance’s castle, the one that he had seen moving in the distance from his hometown and the one that everyone sang songs and told stories about. 

As he leaned back in his chair, relaxing with a sigh, he was startled by a voice. 

“You’re awfully comfortable for just breaking into someone's home! Alas, I did let you in,” Keith turned around and tried to look for a source, but found the room just as empty as before. It was a moment before his eyes turned to the fire, finding with a jolt that it indeed had a face, and he was pretty sure it was the one that had just talked to him. 

“Hello?” He said tentatively, and the fire seemed to roll its eyes. 

“You’ve got quite a nasty curse there,” The fire commented, and Keith crossed his arms against his chest. 

“What’s it to you?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, I’m not just a talking fire for funsies. Lance keeps me here against my will, powering the castle and making sure to run all of the water for his baths! It’s blasphemy, let me tell you,” The fire said, as the log that it was on began to crumble. The fire sighed, and hands appeared, reaching out towards a pile of logs that resided next to the hearth. 

“Can you give me another log, please?” It asked, and Keith sighed, watching it for a moment before moving out of the chair and forward to grab it. As he placed it down for the fire, it seemed to spark a bit more brilliantly when it touched the wood and consumed it. 

“My name is Coran. I’m a powerful fire demon who’s been running this castle for decades, I let you in, so I feel like you could help me out. I’m assuming you’re looking for whoever put that nasty curse on you,” 

Keith grumbled underneath his breath, shrugging his shoulders. 

“So I help you. How is Lance going to feel when he loses his fire? I don’t want to deal with that,” Keith says, relaxing back into his chair again. 

“You’re not even going to tell me your name? After I went to all of that trouble to let you in! And I know Lance is way too powerful for his own good, once this stupid war is over then I’m sure he’ll be able to focus all of his attention on making this castle run. He’s just taking advantage of me!” The fire exclaimed, and Keith jumped when a heard a noise come from the door before it was opened, and he quickly leaned back further and laid his head on his shoulder, pretending to be asleep. 

Whoever it was walked slowly across the floor of the room, footsteps heavy. 

“I’m not going to lie to you, you seem a little worse for wear,” Coran mumbled out, and Keith tried his best to fight the curiousity that overcame him as he felt the figure pass behind him. 

“Run the water for my bath, and direct the castle 40 miles to the East,” the voice of the figure called out, and Keith found it shockingly familiar. 

“I see you let someone in,” The figure said, stopping in their footsteps. Coran sighed audibly at the remark, and Keith heard a soft laugh.

“See to it that they remain dry and warm. I’ll be here in the morning,” The person said, and once the footsteps had receded up the stairs, Keith sat up and opened his eyes. 

“Was that Lance?” Keith asked, finding himself more eager than he would’ve anticipated. 

“Unfortunately. I worry about him every time he goes out, the more and more magic he uses the more he’s hurting himself. I keep wondering if one day he’s going to walk into the door and not be able to turn back to being human anymore,” Coran said, his tone becoming more somber than Keith had anticipated. His fire had seemed to die down a little accordingly. 

“Alright, I’ll help you. As long as you help me, as well,” Keith mumbled, his voice lower as he admitted his thoughts. 

“That’s amazing, my boy! Thank you,” He said, and his fire seemed to crackle a little brighter. 

“Get some rest. We can figure out things in the morning,” Coran continued, and Keith hummed, hunkering down and not fighting back a yawn that overtook him. 

“Oh yeah! I made this friend in the wastes, I call them Pineapple Head because they literally have a pineapple for a head. I left them on the doorstep,” Keith told Coran, and the fire seemed to look at him judgmentally. 

“Quiznak. I’ll make sure they won’t fall off while we’re moving. Goodnight, furry ears,” Coran said, and disappeared within the flames. 

Keith frowned, but made himself more comfortable, finding sleep easily as he listened to the crackle of the fire. 

-

The next morning he was awoken as a doorbell chimed several times throughout the house. It was quickly followed by stumbling, quick footsteps that thundered down, and Keith wondered for a moment if he should appear awake before thinking better of it and remaining to seem asleep. 

The footsteps came closer, stopped, before moving to grab something that sounded like flourishing fabric before stomping down the stairs to the door. Keith peeked an eye open to find a short person wearing green overalls, short brown hair all ruffled and everywhere, bring a midnight blue cape over their shoulders. The person put the hood up and opened the door, their voice coming out in an odd accent. 

“This is the house of the Wizard Pendragon, how many I help you?” The figure called out, and Keith shifted to sit up, then, stretching as he watched the person interact with whoever was at the door. He eyed Coran, who seemed to be burning low on one last log, and he moved to get a few more, dumping them over the fire. 

“A little more gentle next time, perhaps?” Coran mumbles, and Keith gets up from his chair just as soon as the figure comes up from the stairs. They take off the hood to reveal the same green overalls he had seen before, but he takes in the figure’s features. They have large, circular glasses perched low on their nose, highlighting round, curious brown eyes and freckles dotted among their cheeks. They’re looking at him a bit quizzically as they lay their cape randomly over the mess that seemed to be a table. 

“Who are you?” They asked, and Keith shrugs. 

“You can call me Keith. Coran let me into the castle last night. I was thinking maybe I could help out around here?” He said, shoving his hands into his pockets, and for a moment forgot about his appearance that he wasn’t trying to hide. 

“I’m Pidge. Does Lance know you’re here?” They asked, crossing their arms over their chest. They’re answered by footsteps on the staircase, and a figure appearing, clad in a casual outfit, tight fitting black pants and a billowing white shirt that showcased the warmth of his skin and his shoulders. Keith looked over to him as he came in, realising he was staring at he watched Lance’s hair flow and glisten in the light. 

Lance comes over to stand by Keith, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“I do, indeed Pidge. Good morning, I hope you found the castle cozy after that horrible weather last night. You can call me Lance. How’s breakfast sound?” Lance says, looking straight into Keith’s eyes with a glimmering smile on his lips. Keith nodded once, and watched as Lance went about and pushed things around, seamlessly procuring eggs and bacon and taking them all over to Coran. 

“Want to come help me, Keith?” Lance asks, grabbing a pan and setting down the food on the edge of the hearth. Keith shuffles over to have Lance open his hand after placing a few strips of bacon into the pan, placing it over Coran who huffed in protest. 

“You think I’m just going to let you use me as if I’m a simple kitchen fire?” Coran calls out, and Lance laughs, tipping his head back, exposing the length of his throat, and the glittering necklace that lays delicately over his collarbones. 

“Coran, Coran, the most gorgeous fire, I know you can cook us some breakfast out of the kindness in your heart,” Lance says, a soft chuckle still leaving his lips as Coran stares him down. 

“I guess I can do it just this once, since I don’t want everyone to go hungry,” Coran gives up only after a moment, letting Lance settle the pan finally over his flames. 

“Hand me the eggs?” He asks, looking over at him, and Keith swears that his blue eyes sparkle at he looks at him, full of trust and nonchalance. Keith arches an eyebrow and takes the egg, cracking it himself on the edge of the concrete and moving into Lance’s space to pour the egg into the pan, smirking as it sizzles. Lance’s warmth radiates, and Keith tries not to think about how he wants to lean into him when he feels his presence by his side. 

When Keith finishes and looks up at Lance, he finds him staring at him with a soft smirk, eyebrows arched. 

“I do believe I was perfectly capable of doing that on my own, but thanks for showing me that you can as well,” Lance says, his voice lower, and Keith looks down to the ground as he feels heat rise in his cheeks, a blush forming. He wondered how it looked among all of the purple. 

“Pidge, will you get us some plates and silverware?” Lance called out, and Keith moved to go and try and clear spots among the table, sweeping everything out of the way. 

Lance came over with the sizzling pan a moment later, and Pidge had successfully found plates of all different designs, and procured three spoons. They set them out, and Lance dished out portions of the food that they had cooked. 

“Alright everyone, eat up,” Lance said as he sat, as Pidge promptly started to devour their breakfast and Keith struggled with trying to hold the silverware without pressing onto the cuts that he had on his hands that he had gotten from when he had fallen the previous day. 

He was wincing down at his hands when he felt the weight of someone’s gaze, and looked up to find Lance’s eyes on him. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I fell yesterday in the Wastes and banged up my hands a little. It’s nothing,” Keith replied, giving him a nod until Lance stood up and came over, his own hands palm up. 

“I can help, if you’ll let me,” Lance said, and Keith looked up to him for a moment before slipping his hands on top of his. As soon as they were connected, he felt that familiar warmth that he had felt the first time Lance had used his magic on him. 

When Lance was finished, he brought his hands back and slid his own into his pockets. 

“What do you have in your pocket?” Lance asked then, suddenly, and Keith’s eyebrows furrowed at the question. His hands patted at his pockets, and upon feeling something crumple, he reached in and pulled out a note. The note, once touching air, immediately jumped out of his hands and unfurled, dancing around the table before settling in the middle, burning a mark there. 

“I didn’t know that was in there,” Keith admitted, and Pidge’s eyes were wide as saucers as they stared at the table. 

“Lance, isn’t that dark magic?” They asked excitedly, and looked over to Keith then. 

“Are you evil?” They inquired and Keith shook his head. 

“I think I would know if I was a wizard, by now, especially an evil one,” Keith replied, and Pidge grumbled a little, leaning more out of their chair to look at the markings causing smoke to billow out from the wood. 

“Pidge, stay back from that,” Lance said, and moved to the mark. “I recognize these markings, unfortunately. You didn’t tell us you had a run in with Allura,” He said, looking over to Keith and then back to the table, sighing. “I’m sure the table doesn’t appreciate it having those marks on it,” He murmured, before placing his hand over the markings and running his hand over them, burning them away as he did so. 

He stood up then, carrying his plate over to Coran and feeding him the remains. 

“I’ll be back later tonight. Keep the castle still until I return,” He said, and went over to pull his jacket off a hook, hanging it over his shoulders. 

“Have a nice day, everyone,” Lance said, looking over to Pidge, his eyes finally resting on Keith. He smiled then, softly, before turning and changing the color of the door, before promptly exiting, the door flying shut behind him. 

“Does he always just come and go like that?” Keith asks, finishing off his plate and leaning back in his chair to look over at Pidge, working on their cup of tea. 

“Sometimes he’s gone for days and we don’t even hear from him. I just spend all of the time working on my magic and my inventions,” They say, and get up, going over to another one of the cluttered tables and picking up a book. They begin to carry it up the stairs. 

“Don’t cause too much trouble. Don’t think just because Coran let you in here that you can mess with our stuff,” Pidge calls out over the landing before disappearing. 

“Coran, do you ever get tired of all of this mess?” Keith asks, poking at an object on the table warily. 

“Lance comes and goes so often that Pidge and I just kind of deal with it. This war has taken our productivity down quite seriously,” Coran answers, and Keith looks around to see the dust that has settled over everything, the mysterious and mismatched items piled high in stacks on top of each other, and wonders what the story behind all of it is. 

“Maybe I could clean up a bit? I feel like I can hardly breath in here, much less think clearly,” Keith says, and stands up then, walking over to the fire. 

“You can definitely give it a try,” Coran says, nonchalantly, and Keith crosses his arms. 

“You think I can’t do it?” Keith asks, smirking. 

“It’s certainly a challenge,” 

“Then I’m going to do it,” 

-

Once Keith had finished cleaning the first floor and as much of the second floor as possible, he had collapsed into a makeshift bed that he had created on the floor. He had shoved off his boots and set them aside, and he fell asleep to Coran’s fire crackling and the silence of the castle. 

Sleep had overcome him easily, as the long hours of the day had been spent going through and cleaning and sorting all of the objects and things he came across. Most of it he couldn’t identify, leaving that it could be magic or Pidge’s things for their inventions. 

Pidge had stopped by and talked to him several times through the day, sometimes with their glasses pushed back onto their head and holding all of their hair back from their face, one time with a blowtorch in their hands. He didn’t learn much other than what they had to say about their inventions, and the only other thing he dealt with was Coran grumbling about all of the work he had to do for Lance and the castle. 

He awoke the next morning to the sound of Lance’s bath running. Keith sat up on one elbow, looking over at Coran who was moving over a log that Keith had put there for him. 

“Did he just get back?” Keith asked, and Coran hummed in agreement. 

“Wants hot water for his bath as well for me to move the castle, nothing new,” He says, and Keith runs a hand through his hair before sitting up. He slides his boots on and goes about making breakfast, keeping it simple with toast and tea. Pidge makes their way down some time later, hair askew, glasses lopsided on their nose. 

Keith sets food down on the table in front of them and is about to sit down before he hears a door slam open and feet run down the stairs. He’s met with an image of Lance, naked despite a towel wrapped around his hips. 

“Keeeeith!” He calls out, coming over to him and shoving his head in his face. 

“Look at my hair! Look at what you’ve done to my hair! Why did you rearrange the soaps in my bathroom? Look at what color you’ve turned it!” He yells, and Keith leans backwards, staring at the wet strands that were colored a bright orange. 

“It’s a nice color, Lance,” Keith said, not really seeing the problem with it being orange, even though he did feel bad for switching up the soaps. He watched as Lance went to go and settle in his chair in front of the fire, his head in his hands. 

“There’s no point in being here if I can’t be gorgeous, woo all of the ladies” He moans out, and Keith watches as the orange of his hair settles out to become a dark, ocean blue. 

Keith walks over to him and sets a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m going to ignore how dramatic you’re being, but you should see the color now, it’s even better,” He told him, and went to remove his hand only to find it covered in green goo. 

Pidge stands up from their seat then, as the whole room is shrouded in darkness, long shadows growing up the walls at the room contorts around Lance. The wizard is melting into the floor, spreading out over the floor and the hearth where Coran sat, trying to inch away from the oncoming goo. 

“What is wrong with him?” Keith asks, looking around in disbelief. 

“He’s calling on the Spirits of the Dead. He usually does it when he has a bad break up, so he’s done it several times before. His last boyfriend broke up with him and he was like this for hours,” Pidge said matter of factly, putting their hands on his hips. 

“I can’t believe he’s having a temper tantrum over his hair,” Keith said, and went to move Coran so that he wouldn’t get touched by the goo. 

“Tell me about it! Lance is always this dramatic. His hair doesn’t even look that bad,” They commented, and began shoving his chair towards the stairs. The shadows on the walls seemed to be receding, but Lance was still melting into the chair. 

“Alright, go get the bath started Pidge, I’ll carry him up,” Keith said, and Pidge nodded before running ahead of them. He picked up Lance the best he could, slinging one of his arms over his shoulder as he began to take them up the stairs. They were halfway up before he heard a wet plop, and looked behind them to see that Lance’s towel had fallen off. 

His cheeks blushed bright pink as he made the rest of the way up, keeping his chin upturned to the ceiling to avoid seeing anything. 

“They should be making songs about Lance with things like this,” Keith mumbled to himself, making the rest of the way up with Lance still in his arms.


End file.
